Filch's Successor
by aryllia
Summary: Filch has had enough of snotty children and retires. However, before he leaves Hogwarts for good he has to make sure that his replacement is eased into the job. And so, the legacy of a caretaker is passed on...
1. Filch's Successor

**Title**: Filch's successor

**Summary**: Filch has had enough of snotty children and retires. However, before he leaves Hogwarts for good he has to make sure that his replacement is eased into the job. And so, the legacy of a caretaker is passed on...

**Warnings**: Mentioning of Argus/Irma, OC replacement, non-English writer. Lots of cat-talk.

**Disclaimer:** My username is Aryllia, not Rowling. Had I been Rowling then the books would have been more Marauder-centric. Or Snape-centric. Or more likely Mrs. Norris-centric. Either way I wouldn't have focused on Harry (sorry Harry!).

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, August 23, 2009**_

Filch was in an exceptionally bad mood as he scuffed out of his room, muttering profanities under his breath. Mrs. Norris was at his heels trying ever so sweetly to ease his fuming with soft purring and mewling, but the caretaker barely noticed. Normally he wouldn't let his bad mood go out over his feline friend, but he'd let circumstances get the better of him for now.

When the cat tired of his fit she ran across his path, effectively tripping the man before he reached his intended destination, the chamber of reception. This time her mewling, to the trained ear, sounded clearly displeased. Never able to disregard his most trusted friend for long, Filch lifted the cat and gave her a light hug - after making sure that there was no one around to witness the affection.

"Yes my sweet, I know I said I wanted to retire and it won't be a year too soon – but that doesn't mean I will like to train some good-for-nothing, lazy and spineless _immigrant_ to do my job."

Giving Mrs. Norris one last apologetic scratch behind the ear and dropping her, Argus Filch mustered his most loathing glare and opened the door to see his replacement. He came face to face with headmistress McGonagall and, behind her, a young woman of twenty-something.

"Mr Filch, there you are. Ms. Ground arrived just a few minutes ago."

Filch didn't have to look very close to see that Ms. Ground (Lena? Leah? He hadn't put the name to memory) did _not_ fit his generic immigrant picture. Even if the surname could have been altered to sound British, the blond hair and Caucasian skin seemed genuine. When he came closer to take her hand he noticed that it was calloused, despite her youth. Additionally, her shoulders were just slightly too wide and muscular for the female standard. They would probably have given a masculine appearance if she hadn't been so, er, _bosomy_. Her clothes were simple but spotless.

"Mr. Filch, I've been looking forward to working with you. I give you my word that I will work hard to keep Hogwarts in good condition."

_There it is, _Filch thought, _not a heavy accent, but she's a foreigner alright. _He couldn't for his life place the pronunciation though, but it was not British. Rather than dwelling on the thought he grunted something polite enough for the headmistress to be pleased.

"Well then, Ms. Ground, I better show you around. The students will be here in a week and you better find your way around by then – I won't have time to give you directions!" Never mind that he would stay until the Christmas holidays, if she couldn't learn fast then she could just as well go back to… to… wherever it was she came from.

"Of course."

Filch, slightly put out by the calm reply, sneered for good measure and shuffled out. Oh, how he would enjoy his retirement and the ensuing lack of youths. No sir, Irma had made it very clear that the house she had secured was several miles from the nearest school. If he saw another adolescent in his life then it would be one too many.

"Has the headmistress told you what duties you'd have as caretaker?" Filch didn't bother to look around as he asked, focusing on get up the steps as swiftly as his rheumatism would allow.

"Caring for the hygiene all over the castle, patrol the corridors at night, and tend to minor security work that is below the teaching staff…" Her voice lost some of its confidence as she continued. " I also understood that I would supervise 'detentions' with the students and doing 'odd jobs' for the Headmistress."

Filch grunted at the uncertainty behind the words and focused on the most important part.

"Before the former headmaster they allowed staff, including the caretaker, to give _real_ punishments – not just petty detentions. I still have the chains in my office, keeping them in good condition just in case. Nothing like a good beating to keep the little miscreants from making trouble, eh."

He turned his head ever so slightly, just to get a sight of her terrified or at the very least shocked expression – he was well aware of how soft the younger generations were.

Well, she was shocked – but for all the right reasons as far as he was concerned.

"I fully agree! If students are damaging the fine name or property of the school they should be handled duly." The woman was flushed, bright red spots creeping up from her collar to her cheekbones in her indignation, and her mouth downturned in what could have be a sneer if she just worked a bit on it.

_Maybe, _Filch thought, _maybe there's still hope for the younger generation after all. _Not that he approved of her or any such nonsense – she just wasn't completely hopeless.

* * *

><p>Argus Filch never intended to inquire anything about Ms. Ground. He didn't give a damn about the story of her life. He wasn't even curious and made sure to inform her of that. However, as he was obliged to keep a close eye on her at least during the first weeks, some things simply had to be addressed.<p>

"You're a _squib_?" The word came out more strangled than Filch had meant and he tried to school his features.

"I have never performed magic, if that's what you mean Mr. Filch." Ms. Ground frowned at the muddy footprints on the walls (how they had ended up there – now that's what Filch really wanted to know) before attacking them with a mop. "The headmistress assured me that it wouldn't be a problem."

"Bah, as if there's anything but problems around here!" He made sure to glare at a passing fourth year as he said it, nonverbally intimidating her to hold a distance as she passed by. A suspicious thought struck him. "The headmistress assured _me_ that you had experience of this kind of work."

"Oh yes, I worked as a –" She said something unintelligible foreign before correcting herself "– a _maid_, for almost ten years. The names are different but the effect the same. You have Skower's mess remover, we had Garbi's cleanliness concoction."

"A _maid_?"

"That's what it's called, I believe. Sweep, scour, scrag – those things." She took a step back to inspect the now mud-less wall. "It is a great chance to work here. Very pleasant employers, very respectful workplace. Very little blood."

That was the moment Filch decided that the less he knew about Ms. Ground the better he felt. She had the right values and that was plenty enough for him. Merlin (but hardly anyone else) knew he still had the occasional nightmare of the bloodstained ruins that had been Hogwarts a few years ago.

* * *

><p><em><strong>September 27<strong>_

"You should get a cat, Ms. Ground. Or a half-Kneazle."

The woman looked up from the remains of a new (banned) Weasley product that had left several walls on the fifth floor coated in something green, sticky and smelly.

"A cat, Mr. Filch?"

"Very sharp animals, cats. Mrs. Norris has been invaluable to me during all these years." He paused, sending his old girl a grateful thought. She had led him to the mess within minutes of the devastation – he didn't want to think of the trouble they'd have trying to pry the mess of the walls if it had started to harden. "I know a good breeder of half-Kneazles in Surrey, some of her animals can be traced back to the same litter Mrs. Norris came from." He gave a rasping chuckle at the memory, scaring a passing third year nearly witless in the process.

There were only two sights in his life that had been able to melt his heart and the first had been a small, stumbling Mrs. Norris - still in her baby fluff, mewing in his open palms. So tiny, so fluffy… Her huge yellow eyes staring at him (or at least in the general direction of his face, she had been rather unfocused) before trying to climb his arm.

(The second sight will not be disclosed least the content rating would jump up to mature, as it led to events involving Irma Pince, a negligee and some sultry reading - and we shall leave it at that)

In his moment of reminiscence Filch completely missed the curious looks that were sent his way from passing staff and students alike. Two Slytherin fifth-years even stopped to openly gawk at him until Ms. Ground, bless her burgeoning scowl, shooed them away with a flick of her dirty rag.

* * *

><p>An intense correspondence was soon initiated between Ms. Ground and Mrs. Arabella Figg (with a small note from Filch accompanying the first letter as an icebreaker). Photo's were sent of the cat (a healthy Blue Burmese) and Kneazle (a long-haired black mop-looking thing – the photo was a bit blurry) of which Mrs. Figg expected a litter. In late November came the first photograph of the kittens themselves. Six dark and fluffy newborns, cuddled up against their mother – two males and four females according to Mrs. Figg's accompanying letter.<p>

On the first day of Christmas break, Ms Ground and Mr. Filch journeyed to Little Whinging. Filch insisted – four times – that he was in no way keeping Ms. Ground company but wanted to see Mrs. Figg to talk about cats in general and Mrs. Norris in particular. Besides, it was on the way for him anyway. Argus Filch was now officially retired and Mrs. Norris was secured in a pet carrier, generously charmed for her comfort. Before nightfall they would be _home_ and never have to clean up after ungrateful brats ever again.

After much talking about cats, unruly children, proper cat care and how fluffy kittens are, they finally settled around the Burmese and her litter to decide which kitten would be best suited for the demanding task of ruling the corridors of Hogwarts. Mrs. Figg pointed out that the affectionate Burmese's genes should neuter some of the Kneazle's aggressions and stubborn individualism.

Filch huffed in disappointment as the breed was described as both child-safe and attention-seeking but was somewhat reassured at the fearless attacks one of the females was aiming at his outstretched hand. He briefly pondered if Irma would mind a second cat before shooing the thought astray. Mrs. Norris had consented to sharing him with another human – but another cat would be one betrayal too much.

In the end, Ms. Ground settled for an amber-eyed sable male whom was baptized (accidentally, in thankfully tepid tea) "Gilbert Hayes, or rather, Mr. Hayes". At least it was a more preferable name than Black ("No! That rascal nearly blew the whole castle up") or Harry ("That would just jinx the poor thing, Mrs. Figg"). The tiny Mr. Hayes was still too small to leave his mother and Ms. Ground was instructed to return in a few weeks, in the beginning of February.

As far as successors go, Ms. Ground was probably as good as they'd come (_wherever she came from – no, no need to think of that_) and with a reliable cat there as well… Filch had to admit that Hogwarts seemed to be in decent hands and he was under no conditions going to give the wretched place a second thought.


	2. A Letter to Filch

_**April 3, 2010**_

_Mr. Filch,_

_I hope you, Mrs. Norris and Mme Pince are all fine. You were right about April 1__st__ being a troublesome and prank-littered day, but I think we handled it well enough. A sum of seven detentions from that day alone. Mr. Hayes has caught his first rule-breaker (a small Gryffindor attempting to steal food in the middle of the night – Lupin, the one that changes face). Some good old-fashioned cleaning should hopefully put some discipline in the offenders. Professor Corner kindly provided several cauldrons with deep-seated residue.  
><em>

_I'm very proud of Mr. Hayes, though I'm worried that maybe he was just after the food for himself. Regardless, he is a very sweet thing. And he has grown quite big over the last couple of months. I'm sending a few photos with the letter, as I recall you mentioned that Mrs. Norris once used to sleep in sinks and flowerpots too. Funny how some things repeat themselves._

_I still don't have a specific plan against Peeves, but I think I have an idea. Something professor Longbottom said about psychological warfare. For now, threatening with the Baron works well enough._

_- L. Ground_

_P.S. Mr. Hillard, the librarian, asked me to include a note to Mme Pince. I'm not quite sure what it is he wants in it but he seemed quite worked up and muttered something about the restricted section, so it seems important if not urgent. _

_P.P.S. Is it normal for cats to eat cooked carrots? Mr. Hayes seems quite fond of them, but that might just be because they were served with the chicken (don't ask how he managed to get a hold of it – he finds food everywhere)._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **This is a side-along to "Scorpius Malfoy and the Potter Alliance". It doesn't really belong to the plot but it's the same universe. I'm going to mark this as complete, but I'm wondering if I should continue it in the future with other post-war stories focusing on various minor characters from the canon. If you'd be interested in that then please let me know in a review. If you think the idea is stupid then feel free to say that as well - I have thick skin.


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